Michal believes in helping women through film... Is he a fool?
Posted:
I want to convince everybody that learning how to listen is worth the effort. Society is not a zero-sum game. If a man takes the time to consider another person's interests as if they were his own, he will be better for it. He will feel better. He will be a stronger and more steady individual and all people will benefit.
By getting myself to start listening to women, I want to give others a chance to do the same thing.
I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.
Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.
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Panthers Attack Bielsko by Night
Bielsko Biała Club #4: Opium
Her pride of cats having somewhat disbanded in the night's chaos, the Queen of Panthers gathers what's left of her brood and leads them to the night's final destination, a club at the city square called Opium.
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
On the second to last weekend of June, 2011, I had joined my fellow naturists at a gathering of the Naturist Society in rural Pennsylvania. The next day I left on a flight for Europe. By the end of the week I had unexpectedly met another naturist, a woman, who was destined to accompany me on a tour of Europe's great naturist resorts.
I had come to Europe to experience European naturism, a movement whose philosophy matched my aesthetic of body acceptance and whose organizational structure and leadership I had thought almost exclusively restricted to the western half of the continent. I was shocked to learn that naturism had an official home in Poland, a country not especially known for its liberal culture. I was less shocked to discover that the home was owned by a Dutchman, but even more shocked to learn that it had been largely built by Margo.
Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.
Despite the cops in Vienna. Despite the rain in Veržej. Despite getting lost in Italy. Despite parting at Soest. Despite that night in Amsterdam. Despite our fight in Lisieux. Despite the storm in the Bois de la Roche. Despite that terrible morning outside Collonges. Despite the long road to Pielenhofen, we came back safe and sound and most importantly we were happy. We had started to learn how to listen. We had left the devils of the road behind and the devils ahead seemed just a little bit smaller. We had started to open up.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Everyday Fiction
I fondly remember the Scholastic Book Club catalogs I got in elementary school when I was a kid. I was always looking forward to getting them. It was fun to read all the descriptions and figure out what types of literature interested me the most, although it was particularly upsetting if a world literature anthology I liked was too expensive to even think about buying. I had to make informed decisions. Otherwise it meant a trip to the library and the hope that somebody else wouldn't have checked out any of my books-to-read.
There was one book that was always at the library but that I never had the courage to check out. It wasn't science fiction. It was a book about sex. I was afraid to hold it. Opening it made my heart race. I was afraid to be seen standing in the aisle. I had to switch aisles. I was a long way from the children's section but this was the one place in my world where I could see what a naked girl my age looked like. In the photograph she was standing in a line of girls and women, each progressively taller, older, rounder, fuller. If I had been able to at the time, I would've given this book a nobel prize just for this photograph. I wanted to know what girls were hiding and this was the one book that had the courage to show me the truth. Just having the chance to see the truth was satisfying, not to mention the fact that I was fascinated by the changes represented in those bodies. That I had to hide myself in a corner of a public library in Lincoln, Nebraska in order to see this truth opened up many questions for me.
The last time I was in a library I saw a grown man sitting in front of a computer unashamedly clicking through pictures of large breasts in bikinis on Facebook. If this man were able to do it, I'm sure he would give Facebook a nobel prize for providing this type of literature. He and I are products of a culture that fetishizes the human body. All primitive cultures fetishize something. They give it a specific charge, either positive or negative. It's the "why" that drives a community. Cowboys drive a herd of cattle by negatively fetishizing the land on either side. Men are driven the same way. For us to build a truly free society, one marked not just by sophisticated technology but also by a sophisticated culture, we will have to destroy the fetishes that drive us.
It doesn't matter what types of literature you like. Whether you like reading science-fiction or sampling world literature of an adult nature, just keep in mind that your choice is a little nobel prize of its own. Your choice dictates what kind of writing takes place. If you want humanity to live like cattle, do nothing. If you want to be a cowboy like me, see the fetish for what it is. Destroy its power.
Pronunciation of Everyday Fiction
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "everyday fiction."
Video of me pronouncing "everyday fiction."
Definition of Everyday Fiction
Everyday Fiction is what we tell ourselves or other people just so we can have peace and quiet.
References for everyday fiction
I have yet to find good references for Everyday Fiction
Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #2530
the sheriff says itll take a few days to get my clearance. i dont even know what hes talking about. the army makes up new stuff everyday.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
Jesus became more and more like his father: lying in bed, wasting away, not talking. Fewer people came to their apartment - there was no use: Jesus just didn't respond. He would either shrug his shoulders imperceptibly or make a strange grunt, which didn't mean yes or no: it only meant he wasn't listening to you and you were supposed to know that. Even his uncle's wife, who used to come every other day to cook them dinner, started coming less and less often. Jesus didn't care - he just listened to his radio all day long. Jesus's father had heroin; Jesus had a radio. Everyday, there was more news about terrorism.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
Perhaps I was to blame; my memory does give me the impression that, after a certain point, it was I who habitually engaged Macy with my own dissertation. But that is trivial; if he had so desired he could have changed the course of conversation whenever he wanted. I do recall one time when I seemed to be boring him; I remember asking if I were boring but I don't remember what he said.
I'm getting ahead of myself: I was sitting there in that bathroom, letting it steam, while I sat there obsessing about a bottle of alcohol. It was so trivial. There was no real necessity of bringing a bottle - I hadn't promised anything. I should not have looked silly going there empty-handed - after all, it's Nike we're talking about. I could've left before the party and come back shortly afterwards with a bottle. Nike probably would've come with me. Or else he would've let me go; I would've insisted. He would've said it were silly to do so, but I would've looked over my shoulder and smilingly said, "It's for my own good!"
It made me wonder what kind of people were giving Luke his reputation these days. They can't be that much different from the ones we knew: no self-respecting woman would ever shag in that apartment - but I guess that goes for men too. In fact, what self-respecting person would ever choose to have anything to do with Luke in the first place? He can't possibly be raping them - the walls are too thin - unless he uses drugs - ah, but let us not speak of that.
But I confess: it was very nice to see him. And Luke. And of course, Macy. It's amazing how some people, after so many years, can still make one's flesh jump. Even after one has lost all hope of...the impossible. But like I said, value is so arbitrary. Take wine, for example. I once thought that wine connoisseurs were gods. Possessed of some unearthly power, their discriminating taste born of years of good breeding at expensive restaurants, I thought their abilities beyond the reach of anybody who had not memorized a proper wine list by puberty, or had not spent their adolescence hopping through the French countryside or crawling through the caverns of Eger.
– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 1, Section 1, Introduction, Paragraph 1, Clauses 4-13
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
Clark laughed. "As long as there's oil in the desert, they'll keep those bushes alive. The poor people can starve."
The bus entered a small town. Shephard saw a building with big, square buttresses and top-hinged shutters. The sign read, "Lucky Jewel Guesthouse."
"This is it," he whispered.
He squeezed by the passengers. He told the driver to stop at the upcoming traffic circle. He roused Clark. "Come on," he said. "Let's beat the crowd."
"They listened to you. They know you are meant to be our leader. The rest of us haven't been paying attention. If you officiate this ceremony, it will help establish your authority. I will defend it."
Bo gave Tae a stern look. She held the gaze as she slowly turned her head. She said, "Why?"
Patsy was ecstatic. He asked the Secretary of the Interior if he could go officially to Japan and assist the Japanese in their investigation. "Absolutely not," she said. Patsy went to her husband, explaining, among other things, that if a U.S. Park Policeman were to make an arrest in the Liberty Island case, it would mean the Secretary of the Interior would be holding a big press conference. Television has a way of boosting a politician's prospects. Eventually, the Secretary gave in.
The woman in the waiting room sat watching the secretary put files away. She couldn't help it. For an office worker on the moon, the secretary was extravagantly dressed. Sheer black stockings hugged her legs. A short, tan skirt stretched from one cheek to the other. Thin, white crape billowed over her shoulders like tissue paper.
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
FLETCHER: (placing the towel on the table) I would rather you get the towel dirty than your clothes.
ALICE: Is that the reason?
FLETCHER: Have you thought of a better one?
ALICE: Not quite.
FLETCHER: I'm trying to ensure the efficacy of this massage.
ALICE: If you insist.
FLETCHER: Not so fast: do it slowly.
ALICE: Don't tease me. Turn around.
FLETCHER: Must I?
ALICE: You do.
– ACT I, lines 556-565
LUKE: Misprision?
LESBIAN: Neglect of official duty.
ALICE: Why don't you tell them about your thing, Luke?
LUKE: What thing?
ALICE: You know.
LUKE: Absolutely not.
ALICE: What's wrong?
LUKE: It's embarrassing.
FLETCHER: You must.
ALICE: Come on. It's not so bad.
– ACT I, lines 167-176
ALICE: It's difficult. I like it. Sometimes I do wish he were more sensual.
MS. JACKSON: I know the feeling.
ALICE: When we have sex, it's all about the penetration. There is no foreplay.
LESBIAN: Nothing?
ALICE: Spread 'em and weep.
MS. JACKSON: Men are such animals - present company excepted, of course.
ALICE: Did you see that performance they put on?
LESBIAN: Absolutely dreadful.
ALICE: I thought it was sexy.
LESBIAN: It reminds me of a dance I saw in Fiji.
– ACT I, lines 394-403
FLETCHER: Oh, Money! God of first fruits! Bringer of knowledge! Harvester of truth! Where would Man be without thy cold kindness? Give me your hand. Let the lorikeets squeak out the rhythm of our steps. We'll dance a polonaise. I'll sashay you around the South Pacific. Who could prove to be a better partner? No man could be as faithful; no woman either. Even if she bleed by the moon, her temper is not as mild. Obedience notwithstanding, her character can seem, at times, positively restive. Feistiness is a woman's most vicious virtue. It can burn a man's pride even while it warms his heart. In truth, a man who marries money is liable to finding a bed so stiff the kingfisher would laugh. Without it, one would cry at night like the ghost bird. Thanks to money, nature is Man's slave. Weathering the vicissitudes of fortune, the wealthy man works the ground for as long as the ground does not work him. When that day comes, let's hope that our money has not defrauded us of our nature.
– ACT I, line 797
FLETCHER: You thought Norfolk had a checkered past. Being a former prison colony's prison colony is nothing next to Pitcairn.
ALICE: I would never have imagined it was like that. I thought it was a paradise.
FLETCHER: I'm writing a play about it - specifically about the woman who chopped off that man's head. She's an ancestor of mine. Maybe later we can go over a few scenes.
ALICE: I'd love to.
FLETCHER: If your neck doesn't still hurt.
ALICE: I'm feeling much better now, thank you.
FLETCHER: If you strained it, you strained it. I have to say, you have surprisingly little tension.
ALICE: It's my honeymoon. I've been having lots of sex.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
The surveillance team was lucky they weren't airlocked into oblivion. They caught up with the transport. They rocketed past its puny sails. When the passengers disembarked at one of Earth's orbiting elevators Orbitz was among them. The men breathed a sigh of relief. They decided to cling to their subject like spoiled lettuce. If Orbitz was aware of them he didn't show it. He went straight to a curiosity shop outside of Lubbock, Texas. The men waited in the street in a nondescript white autovan. They plugged in their earpieces. They heard the jingling of a bell. Footsteps.
To ensure the veracity of Captain Orbitz's responses the Amazon enlisted the telepathic services of five of the most well-respected Astrazeneca in the Orion Arm. They did not come cheap. Shielded behind glass in five separate compartments they listened intently to Orbitz's thoughts. When Orbitz was asked directly if he was an exian, he said no. The megacepahlics buried their fingers into their huge pulsing temples. They concentrated and said almost in unison, "This is truth."
The man interviewing Sara Lee was taken aback. He had asked the woman one of the control questions. The correct answer was supposed to be no. The Amazon spoke into his microphone. He had the interviewer ask the question again. Sara Lee squinted. She thought about it. She said, "I'm not sure."
The Astrazeneca were confused. They started shaking their humongous heads. Some said, "This is truth?" They raised the tone at the end of the statement as if it were a question. Others said, "This is false." It sounded as if they wanted to believe it but they weren't sure. It was a disaster.
A finger up the bum was Steve O's favorite cure for a headache. It wasn't always like that. He used to enjoy digging his thumbs into the tops of his eyeballs. At least in the morning. By the afternoon it was all about the booze. A half bottle of wine did the trick. By night it was a decent wank. If he was sober.
Life is a spinning sphere with Joy at one pole and Sadness at the other. Each continuously feeding its pair. Joy flanked by the emotions of Trust on one side, Surprise on the other. Trust leading to Anticipation; anticipation leading to Fear. Surprise leading to Disgust; disgust leading to Anger. Anger and Fear fueling our Sadness. Sadness giving way, in time, to Joy; through Hope, an orientation towards Love. Love, an openness towards Joy, Trust and Surprise; the sum of emotion; emotion amplified by others. Multiplied and divided, in equal parts. Such that to those from whom it has been subtracted, we must add. Until we are whole.
Your purchases keep the "Everyday Fiction" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing art from Poland...is he berserk?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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